


God Damn Right (You Should be Scared of Me)

by PeachyBaby



Series: Tell me That you Love me Even if it's Fake [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, ends with some good sweet make up sex, what do you expect from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyBaby/pseuds/PeachyBaby
Summary: Cheryl Blossom is good at control. Grips it in her fists so it can't be lost, holds on for dear life.Betty doesn't think she's ever really been in control her entire life.-x-AKA: Cheryl meets all dark, no stars, Betty. (And kind of likes it)





	1. Who is in Control

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Halsey's Control.  
> Seperate from my previous Cheryl/Betty fic.
> 
> In my Riverdale Verses it usually goes, end of junior year, Jason gets killed that summer, and the start of Senior is when the plot of the show begins.  
> So Cannonly within this fic, both Betty and Cheryl are 17.

Cheryl feels powerful as she straddles Betty, spreading highlighter onto Betty's cheeks with a fluffy brush as she smirks, rambling about Veronica quietly. Her shorts rise up her thighs, Betty's acutely aware of the feeling of Cheryl pressed into her lap, she really doesn't know how she got here. How she convinced herself this was a good idea. Cheryl might be rambling but she's still playing this little game, pressing herself as close as she can, rolling her hips gently (Betty almost doesn't notice), Betty looks away anyway. Cheryl catches her chin with her fingers, bringing Betty back to look her in the eyes. Cheryl's voice is sugary sweet as she rambles on, and Betty almost feels threatened by the sickly sweet stare. Cheryl has the music turned up too loud and it makes Betty's head spin, trying her best to focus on the body on top of her.

"I mean, Veronica must really be evil incarnate if even you won't be friends with her.." Betty frowns, and Cheryl just keeps brushing against her cheeks. Dragging her fingers over the hollow of her cheekbones, Betty shudders.

"And on the subject of being friends, I'm sorry I've been a witchy witch to you, after Polly and Jason's demise, I was angry, at everyone, but I took it out on you. And that was unfair. Especially because, in a way, it's like we both lost siblings," Cheryl sounds sincere, but Betty knows the extent of her acting, and the way she purposely wriggles in place, leaning in closer than she needs to. This feels like a scheme, this is a scheme. (she tries not to think about how _wet_ she is right now, Cheryl is _lying_ ). (Her body doesn't seem to care).  
And Cheryl keeps asking so many questions, like some twisted game of rapid fire twenty questions.  
But Betty can play this game, and she can play it well. Has seen her mother play it many times before (is watching Cheryl play it right now).

"Cheryl," Betty asks, letting her hands brush up Cheryl's thighs, her thumbs brushing against her hipbones. "Why are you asking me so many questions about Polly?" She knows the answer, but she wants to hear Cheryl say it. She watches Cheryl's entire demeanor shift, expressionless but there's fire burning in there. Feels it radiating off the girl on top of her.

Anger. It has a funny way of working, wiggles it's way into you, turns you ugly and hurting and ready to die for your cause. (And Cheryl's so ready to die).

"Because, Betts, someone shot my brother, and I think it was your crazy, tweaked out sister," Cheryl tries to move from her lap, but Betty pulls her back down by the hips hard. Pressing her hips against her own, and Cheryl gasps at the pressure.

"Is that so, Cher?" Betty smiles sweetly, this voice practiced to be perfectly nice. Her hands slip up Cheryl's thighs again, this time brushing up with purpose, before cupping Cheryl through her shorts, letting her palm hit her clit in a way that has Cheryl gasping and thrusting into her.

"What the fuck are you doing Cooper," Betty giggles with practiced ease.

"I'm playing the same game you were. Just better," Betty's voice is stone and it sends a shiver up Cheryl's spine.

"And which game was that?"

"The one where you wiggle your cute little ass, and call me sweet things, and stare at my lips until I give you what you want," Cheryl whimpers as Betty grinds her palm against Cheryl's cunt.

"A-and what exactly do you think I want," Cheryl asks indignantly.

"Information," Betty whispers, letting her lips ghost up Cheryl's neck.

"Are you gonna give it to me, darling, or are you gonna fuck me?" Cheryl says with a glare, Betty smirks and undoes the button of Cheryl's shorts. Cheryl's glare turns up into a telltale smile.  
Then Betty's pinning Cheryl to the bed, and pulling her shorts and panties down to her knees before she slides two fingers inside her with ease. Betty thrusts in an even pace. The slow pace earns a mewl of pleasure. (And Betty tries not to revel in the wetness that slicks the inside of Cheryl's thigh, that collects in the pad of her hand. The way Cheryl arches into eager fingers. Whimpers out a weak, _Oh fuck_ , mouth agape, making unwavering eye contact that for once in her life screams need instead of hate. Cheryl wants her. But Betty has to win). Betty keeps her fingers in place, lets her thumb brush over Cheryl's protruding clit. (Betty wants her too).

"Neither, Cheryl," Betty pulls out without warning and Cheryl is nearly sobbing in protest. Wet, and open, laying on Elizabeth Coopers bed, in her pink room, shorts to her knees, approximately 5 minutes from a really fucking good orgasm if Betty had been as promising as she seemed. "Now get the fuck out of my house, before I _kill you_."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to edit and re upload this chapter, i wasn't super happy with the way it came out the first time. So here it is! New and improved

Cheryl hadn't been touched a lot, as a child. That simply wasn't the Blossom way. A nanny had looked after her and Jason most of the time, spending time with her parents at dinner time, and when she had a dance recital.

But she had Jason. Jason loved her in a way Cheryl could count on. So she did.   
If there was one thing that the Blossom's did do, it was favoritism. And boy did they love Jason.  
Their poster boy of purity. Big smile, with pretty white teeth all in a line. Playing football (and lacrosse, and hockey, and tennis) and bringing the prettiest girls home. Cheryl didn't think they'd like it if she brought pretty girls home.  
Cheryl remembers the feeling of being hugged by her mother vaguely. It's a fleeting memory tucked back into mind. It had been a short ordeal, 6 years old and pressed into the soft stomach of a woman she knew didn't love her, as she sobs over a scraped knee. She wishes she had saved the hug for a moment like this. She could use something right now.  
When Clifford touched her it wasn't a show of affection. It was a show of aggression, of dominance. His touch left bruises. Left an ache in her wrist, a numbness in her fingers.  
Jason hugged her and she could fit under his chin. He smelled like old spice deodorant and sunshine, and his chin hair tickled her cheek.   
He told her everything would be okay.

Jason lied. Nothing is okay and he's dead and left her alone.

Betty is the first one to touch her after Jason, really touch her. Not passing brushes from her mother, or her fathers bruising touches.   
And she ruins it.  
She touches her with purpose. Playing her like she thinks Cheryl is new at this game (and she's not). At first Cheryl is tickled that Betty would think she could actually fight back, but then she's knuckle deep inside her and all thoughts are out the window. Only a minute later she's wiping her hand on her shorts and threatening Cheryl's life and its whiplash. She pulls up her pants, makes her way to the car, drives around the corner where Betty can't see her out of the window and sobs. (In the back of her head, she knows that she had this coming. She's mean and angry and she pushed Betty to the edge. But this is something she never expected).   
And what she hadn't expected was to want it, and god she wants it.   
(She tries not to notice the guilt that builds along with her orgasm as she fucks herself in the shower that night).

The next day Betty is linked to Veronica's hip again, it stings more than it should. (She destroys Betty during cheer, and it almost makes up for it). Betty doesn't look at her for the rest of the week.  
Cheryl doesn't know why she's stressing over this, she's kissed people before. She's fucked people before. But being at the mercy of Elizabeth "girl next door" Cooper had made her feel something. (And that just won't do). Because kissing Betty seems to be the only thing Cheryl thinks about anymore, and it's honestly quite concerning. She's used to seeing Betty and thinking Polly. (And Polly makes her think of Jason, and that's a road she doesn't want to go down anymore).  
Now she looks at Betty and remembers how good Betty looked, in control, and hovering over her. It's an unexpected turn of events. Especially when Betty hasn't even looked Cheryl in the eye since threatening her life while she had Cheryl's arousal drying against her palm.   
It's very concerning indeed.

Two weeks of Betty ignoring her pass before Cheryl gets straight up sick of it. She is not going to be pitied by some shy nobody with a dirty little secret.   
So maybe she holds Betty back to see her do the cheer routine, and maybe she makes sure no one else stays back. And maybe she knows that the locker room will be dismally empty (But no one has proof).  
So when Betty drags herself back to the locker room, sweaty and tired, pink tinting her cheeks, Cheryl follows dutifully behind. Betty's shoes click on the tile floor, and Cheryl can feel the excitement rising in her throat (the adrenaline in her veins. Stalking the kill).

"So," Cheryl says, they reach their respective lockers, "One of the alumni football players is coming back from college this weekend, he's having a party tonight at 9," Cheryl stops mid pulling on her skirt, looking over at Betty pointedly as she pulls the white and yellow practice shirt over her shoulders, "you should come," she pulls her skirt up the rest of the way and tucks her shirt in. Taking a step forward, she tucks a slip of paper into Betty's bra, lingering long enough to let the point sink in, "Think about it, darling?" With that she's grabbing her bag and heading out the locker room door.   
Betty stands stunned for a moment, pulls the paper out of her sports bra and smiles.

/X/

Betty goes out of spite. That's really what it is.   
It's better to go than to be taunted for not going.   
The house is hot, too many bodies packed into one space for the chill of the outside to seep in. Betty spots Cheryl from the opposite side of the room. She's grinding against some jock from the football team and it makes Betty's heart sink in her chest. Cheryl locks eyes and smiles.   
Betty makes her way to the kitchen, shaking off the feeling as she pours herself a glass of some miscellaneous fruity cocktail. She wishes Veronica and Archie had come, but they were up to their weird "not couple" things. Betty shakes her head and moves to the makeshift dance floor, trying to insert herself into a conversation with a fellow River Vixen, after a few unanswered pleasantries and nasty looks, Betty retreats to the patio.   
She shouldn't have come. It was stupid to think that Cheryl was doing this for any other reason than to make her uncomfortable.  
And yeah, maybe Betty thought it was an advance, and yeah maybe she thought this would be her chance to make up for... Well, poor decisions.   
The patio door opens and she hears the faint sound of a lighter being flicked. Betty almost laughs as she remembers Jughead's attempt at smoking once in the beginning of Sophomore year.

"You came," Betty jolts at the voice, she hadn't expected Cheryl of all people to be a smoker.

"You invited," Betty retorts, and watches Cheryl emerge in her peripheral vision.

"Feisty today Bets," Cheryl says as she leans against the rails, "Hot," Betty blushes and Cheryl takes a drag off her cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked," Betty says, filling up the inevitable silence if she hadn't.

"I feel like there's a lot of things you don't know about me."

Cheryl's words sit in the air with the smoke, and Cheryl smirks.

"I'm sorry about- about what happened," Betty whispers, Cheryl just laughs.

"You don't need to be sorry, I was a bitch," Cheryl sighs, taking another drag off her cigarette.

"I'm still sorry," Betty wishes she hadn't done it. She'd been angry, so fucking angry. And that stupid game Cheryl had been playing was set up just so, and so she'd gone for it. (Betty tries not to think of the little noises Cheryl had made, the resonating gasp) (The feeling of Cheryl's cunt, soft and fucking soaked for her).   
And they had both wanted it. Cheryl would have destroyed her otherwise, and Betty just would have kicked her out of the house.   
But that wasn't the case.

"I'm sorry too," Cheryl says, breaking the silence, "I don't really think your sister killed Jason," Cheryl takes the last drag off her cigarette and puts it out on the railing, throwing the butt off the side.

"You wanna come in with me?" Cheryl asks quietly

"Yeah, yeah I do."

/X/

  
The tile pressed against her back is cold, Cheryl can feel it through the thin fabric of the blouse she's wearing. The music from the party makes the tiles vibrate with every kick of the base and Cheryl can feel the buzz in the base of her skull, collecting there with the hazy sheen of drunk thats been amassing since her first glass of Brandy this evening. Betty feels soft underneath her wandering hands as Cheryl sighs into a kiss, Betty's fingers pressing experimentally against the bud of her clit.

The black skirt Cheryl had picked out this morning is bunched at her feet, Betty's hand tucked into her light pink panties. They shouldn't be doing this where someone could so easily find them, but Cheryl almost doesn't care. Wouldn't care if anyone walked in, watched her get fucked by Betty Cooper in the bathroom at some frat boys party. They need to not be doing this at all, the threat against her life should have put her off how had she ended up here?

Actually Cheryl knows exactly how she got here. She pushed, and pushed, like she always does, pushed until Betty broke. But this time it was different. (And Cheryl had been much more kind, considering the pushing this time involved heavy teasing, expensive booze, and a master plan). Betty wasn't angry, she wasn't scheming, Betty was just drunk.  
It's dimly lit, and Cheryl has to strain her eyes to see all of Betty's delicate features, she smiles at her then, and Betty smiles back and presses her lips to the jut of Cheryl's jaw, leaving pink lipgloss in the wake of her kisses. Betty nips the soft flesh just behind her ear just to make Cheryl gasp.

"God, you're pretty," Betty hums, her fingers circling Cheryl's clit idly, she's slow, taking her time even when they could be caught. Cheryl moans softly, letting her nails dig into the curve of Betty's hip.

"Betty," her words are pleading, Cheryl's other hand move to grip at Betty's shoulder blade. "Need you," it comes out in a rush, and Betty coos, pressing her lips back to Cheryl's briefly,

"I've have you Cheryl, I have you," Cheryl whimpers, letting her head slide to rest in the crook of Betty's neck, her breathing hushed. Betty pushes a finger inside her, Cheryl whines at the intrusion but bucks her hips. Betty slides a second finger in with the next rock into her and Cheryl gasps. Betty's at an awkward angle, her hand crooked to reach the softness of Cheryl's cunt, but she barely notices the pinching ache in her wrist as Cheryl's fingers dig into her shoulder blades, urging her closer.   
Cheryl wonders why she's being so soft. It's so soft it's painful, like each touch Betty's apologizing (and she really shouldn't apologize).

" _Betty_ , fuck hh-" she moans as Betty's palm rubs hard at her clit, fingers still working inside of her. "Harder, please," Cheryl's words come in hiccuping gasps. Betty obeys, putting weight behind every thrust. " _Oh_ ," the inflection is soft and Betty almost misses it, she smiles, her head floating dazed in a cloud of lust.   
Cheryl smells smokey, from the cigarette she had on the patio before wandering her way back inside, but it mingles with the fancy perfume in a way that makes Betty feel at home.   
She's never felt like this about anyone before. It's addicting, the way Cheryl smiles at her, the way she gasps at when Betty presses a kiss on her jaw.

Cheryl rocks into her at a slow pace, gasping for breath in the warm lighting of the bathroom. She can hear the chatter of people at the party in the distance but all she can focus on is the fingers scissoring inside her with ease.

"God, _fuck_ , Betty," its a breathy admission, and Betty smiles as she connects their lips again. Betty nips at her lip and presses harder in with every thrust.

"Come on, I got you," the words are whispered into Cheryl's mouth, quiet and caring. Like they're the only thing she could think of saying. Cheryl moans and moves to rest her head against Betty's neck again. Sucking lightly sucking at the junction between her collarbone and her neck. Cheryl can feel her orgasm building at the base of her spine, hot and needy.

"Cher?" Betty prompts, and Cheryl whimpers in response. "Touch your clit, sweetness, I know you're close," Cheryl moans in response, her mouth making a soft pop as she pulls back from sucking hickeys onto Betty's neck. Cheryl does as she's told, slipping her hand just underneath Betty's letting her middle finger graze against her clit in small circles, her hips canting into Betty's fingers as her breaths come sharper. She feels content, Betty's fingers working inside her, pleasantly drunk on expensive brandy from a rich frat guys party, the buzz of nicotine faint but still making her sleepy. Betty whispers sweetly in her ear and Cheryl can feel herself teetering at the edge. She locks eyes with Betty, twitching with every thrust. Her own fingers speed up and Betty smirks, letting her hands tangle into Cheryl's soft curls. She tugs gently, moving Cheryl to expose her neck, biting down hard. Cheryl yelps, hissing as Betty soothes the bite with her tongue.

"Come on, look at me," Betty whispers, Cheryl's only answer comes in the form of a sob as Betty hits particularly deep inside her. "Look at me, Cheryl," Cheryl sucks in a breath and looks at Betty, her eyes are blown and Betty smiles. "Cum for me, baby girl, all you gotta do is cum for me,"

"Fuck, oh god, Betty. I wanna be your good girl, I wanna-" Betty smiles and Cheryl speeds up her fingers, tipping her head back, eyes closed as her orgasm hits like a wave. She cums hard, and Betty moans at the feeling of Cheryl's cunt clenching around her fingers, works her through with smaller thrusts until Cheryl's panting and spent, knees wobbling and Betty kisses her thoroughly, letting her tongue press against Cheryl's as she shivers with the last wakes of her orgasm. Betty pulls out gently, earning a whine from Cheryl.

"That probably shouldn't have happened," Betty whispers, pressing another kiss against Cheryl's mouth.

"I know," Cheryl breathes against Betty lips before pressing back against them. The kiss is softer this time, and Cheryl is keenly aware of the feeling of Betty's hand at her waist. Can feel her thumb making circles against her skin. Cheryl presses Betty closer, her hands tangled in Betty's hair.

"Stay anyway?" Cheryl whispers as she pulls back.

"Of course."

 


End file.
